


Lazy doesn't mean push over

by damnedxfate



Series: Dragon Days [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Claiming, Dadster, Dragon AU, Fluff, Impression (Dragonriders of Pern), Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Muffet (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), different grillby aus, different muffet aus, dragon sanses, grillby dragons, mother river, papyri are related, sanses are related, some heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnedxfate/pseuds/damnedxfate
Summary: Continuation of previous dragon au stories, focused on the classic brothers.The life of Classic from hatching to Ceremony under the care of Crisp. The times and trials, the love and shenanigans of a not actually lazy hatchling to a sure of himself, overly affectionate adult and his loving but much too good for this world Rider.





	Lazy doesn't mean push over

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this was voted as my next project on Tumblr. Its my dragon au focusing on the other brothers. The Underfell chapter will be worked on next.

He was the first the voice told him.    
  
They spoke to him often while he grew inside his shell. Eventually introducing themselves as Andromeda, his Sire.   
He was Andromeda’s first laid egg, first to hear him and first to respond. His siblings, of which he had 3, had yet to reach out with their minds but he knew they would soon. He could hear one next to him grow agitated at times when Andromeda would speak. In his younger brother’s defense, Andromeda’s mental voice was strong and old.    
The elder dragon had been around for many decades and had vast knowledge that the little hatchling found fascinating.    
  
Whenever he would wake from his growing induced slumber, he questions his Sire of all the things outside his prison, of the hands that held his shell, of the voices he heard. Upon asking, he learned of their history and of his future.   
  
The Dragonet found it interesting and waited with bated breath to see the world outside. His body was growing, his prison grew smaller and his mind broader, his instincts told him soon.   
  
Soon, thankfully, became now several wakings later. Sire coaxed him to break free and he answered with an almighty push cracking a hole atop his prison and letting in the miracle of light.    
  
It was exhausting.   
  
He pushed, and scratched, tried to fit his muzzle through the hole to breathe and smell and taste the air but he was too large and the opening to narrow.    
Sire encouraged them, his siblings they rocked, they cried but it was he that came out into the world with a shove and a cry.    
What he saw of the world was amazing but so frighteningly large. He moved and twisted, turned his weakly shaking body to take in all that he could but gentle hands lifted him from the warm sands and he saw them for the first time.    
Sire said they were his Rider’s sons just like he was his Sire’s son and one day this large person whom rubbed the cold from his body with kind touches would be his partner and he found himself content to let the world come to him if it meant the warmth of these hands wouldn’t leave him.   
  


* * *

  
  
He learned they had named him Classic, he wasn’t sure why but wasn’t necessarily interested to find out when there was already so much more interesting things to learn.   
Did you know, if he concentrated his magic, he would appear in a completely different area he was before?    
Classic learned this when his caretaker, which he learned was named Crisp, had been feeding him small morsels of tender meat when another candidate, how annoying to have his meal interrupted when he hungered so very much, had called Crisp away momentarily. The bowl was laid just out of his reach atop the table he had not the coordination to climb.   
He wanted, willed the bowl to come to him but instead found himself seated inside the bowl, atop the table staring at a stunned Crisp.   
  
He learned later, this was a skill from his Dam whom would teleport great distances in the blink of an eye. Classic was still young but it did little to stop him from developing his skill though it left him with a nickname he didn't quite understand. It was tiring to gather his magic and travel that way; yet he was called lazy, slothful even.    
Maybe if he cared for their opinion it would bother him but alas he didn’t. He cared for his siblings of which his smaller but angrier brother had inherited his skill, to a lesser degree, and what they thought along with the monster siblings that cared for them.   
  
Every day he cared for them more and the outsiders less.    
  
He found these others, piggish and rude. They talked over him and his siblings as if they understood nothing. They thought them incapable and dull.   
So he found other ways to keep himself occupied instead of seeking attention when his family was busy.    
Maybe it was this that made Classic the first again.   
He was the first to stretch his wings and glide. His “shortcuts” stranding him once on a rocky outcropping with little magic. His choices were to either cry until found, climb down or glide.    
No one would hear his cries easily from here, he lacked the stamina to climb, so he straightened his meager wings and caught a rising breeze toward the bowl below where he landed quite ungainly atop his cantankerous youngest sibling.   
  
His next milestone came much later and under far different circumstances.    
  
It was explained to him and his siblings that they would be transferred to another group of caretakers for a few weeks while other dragonets would take their place with the brothers.   
  
They did not like this one bit.   
  
This new group was inept and careless. The brothers were a light in each of their lives and these stand-ins fell far short in comparison.   
That is not to say they didn’t try but they did not have the same resonance the brothers had.    
  
Classic wanted his Crisp. The one-sided conversations during feeding time, piggy back rides across the bowl or when they would play “kite”. Crisp full sprinting with Classic held aloft, his wings out-stretched to catch the breeze.   
Crisp was the embodiment of encouragement for him, a wealth of knowledge and his closest friend.   
From the morning Classic would wake, Crisp was at his side; his own personal sun. He was always smiling, always talking, always moving and Classic would repay him with affection and laughter. Crisp loved when Classic would roll onto his back and wiggle in place endearingly. His caretaker would say that one of Classic’s best traits was his wiggle and it never failed to make Crisp laugh and stop to pet him.   
  
It was funny in a way, Classic would be content just going from one place to another and save time short-cutting but eventually he felt like time was being wasted instead. Every time he would shortcut, he would get their first but found that he would come up last when it came to Crisp’s time.    
  
Every time the exuberant skeleton would finish one task, another would appear. Whether it was something assigned to him or a “favor” asked by another trainee. Classic came to hate these favors. Crisp was unable to say ‘no’ it would seem but Classic at first gave others the benefit of the doubt until he learned otherwise.    
He stopped shortcutting and walked alongside Crisp wherever they needed to go and did one of the things he did best. He observed and learned and again tried to give them the benefit of the doubt despite seeing them laze about while Crisp worked double time to cover their slack.   
  
He couldn’t forgive them when their reasoning was shoved in his face.    
  
Crisp told him to believe in the best of others but Classic had no choice but to judge them harshly after what he heard.   
  
“Think they are so entitled…”   
  
“So dumb, who does he think he’s kidding…?”   
  
“Why is that one always smiling?”

  
“So annoying…”   
  
“Haha watch this, bet I can…”   
  
He    
**h a t e d** ****  
them.   
  
Classic coordinated their retaliation.    
  
His “model behavior” went out the window. He began to ignore them, going out of his way to shortcut and hide when he was to attend training and handling class. No one could find him unless he damn well felt like appearing.   
Red was to wreak havoc. His ruby-colored brother heard things never spoken aloud. He would use this information to break and rend, rip and tear all those sweet little secrets their “caretakers” would stash away.    
Classic really didn’t have to nudge little Blue to act out. His poor brother had cuddled into his nest piteously, mewling into the night for his Stretch.    
As for Black? There wasn’t a single thing Classic could suggest that his hellish brother hadn’t done. Classic was damn proud and loving it, even aiding the effort by leading off the handlers to distract them long enough for Black to spread his mayhem.   
  
They kept up their maliciously naughty behavior but the parasites hung on tenaciously and Classic’s well of patience was running bone dry. He wanted to go home and he wanted it now!   
  
It all came to a head one late night after a long day of chaotic behavior.    
  
One of the female spider caretakers had walked into their nest with dinner, bragging at one of her simpering cohorts how she had dumped her chores onto “what’s his name? You know the one” and gave a mock, overly exaggerated smile and belted out in a crude imitation of His Crisp voice.    
  
Usually when someone is seething mad they claim they see red. Classic saw white instead.   
  
His body reacted alongside his raging emotions. Claws braced, back arched, his maw opened wide, far wider than it ever had before until it split at the hinges and let loose the plasma his breed was known for, burning like acid on the way out.   
The blast shot out with a scream of displaced air, launching him back despite his dug in position.   
The two fools had thrown themselves to the floor, looking frantically between the hole in the roof toward the black eyed Classic, jaw still stretched wide, stained and dripping.    
The blast took everything out of him and their screaming retreating forms were shrouded by his brother’s worried faces, his last view before Classic’s young body collapsed.   
  
He was unsure how long he had been unconscious but he woke cradled in Crisp arms, while the skeleton monster applied green healing gel to his aching skull. His sleep addled mind didn’t register most of what Crisp was saying beyond that he and his brothers were in charge of them again and that the council was beyond themselves over the fact that Classic was the youngest Dragonet in history to use his blast magic.   
The other handlers had tearfully admitted to their sub-par care, work ethic and the lies they had reported on the dragonets behavior when put under pressure.    
If they hadn’t lied, Classic and his brothers would’ve returned much sooner but their chances of graduating would fall greatly, which after this fiasco they may not even stand during ceremony either way.   
  
Classic felt little guilt over this. They had proved they weren’t ready to care for a Dragonet, much less a full grown dragon and all the duties that came along with it.   
For now he was back, exactly where he was supposed to be.   
  


* * *

  
  
‘_The dragons are in heat_’ Sire explained to him with a strained mental whisper when Classic asked.   
Since sunrise, both the riders and dragons of the Rookery were behaving silly, in Classic’s opinion, and making his life difficult. Handlers, Riders, maids, cooks everyone was standing around talking and pressing each other into dark alcoves instead of what they should be doing.  
  
The only ones seemingly unaffected were he, his siblings, the other Dragonets and all of their caretakers...or so he had thought. Classic did not equate his rising temper or the persistent magical build up around his mana-lines to his own pre-heat until much later when he sought further wisdom.  
He was too young to have a full heat, his Sire explained, but the magic thrumming through the air was most likely affecting him with a pseudo cycle. The later it became the worse Classic felt. He wanted to submerge himself in cold water, live in the shade, bury himself underground. Anything to escape this thrice damned heat but that meant Crisp would be unguarded and while the layabouts had stepped back, Classic was undeterred in his protective duties.   
Laboriously he followed Crisp through his daily chores. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of one of his brothers and checked how they were faring.  
  
Red had sequestered himself inside their den alongside Edge whom had finished his chores early to comfort his charge. Classic wasn’t sure what they were doing in there, Red having shoved back against all of Classic’s mental calls, but Classic knew Edge would handle his cranky sibling.  
Blue was off following Stretch as he normally did but with much more vigor. Last Classic had seen, Blue was doing his best to walk while also twining himself around Stretch’s legs like a far too large cat, making the poor skeleton windmill his arms for balance.  
Classic didn’t see Black until the evening and my what a spectacle he made.   
  
The trainees had all went out on the sands to watch the dragons perform elaborate mating dances before flying off in pairs toward the surrounding mountain peaks.  
Crisp had settled by his brothers to talk and catch up peacefully but things had gone south, quickly.   
Blue began to dance for Stretch, displaying proudly, but his caretaker had attempted to run making Blue chase him unsuccessfully.   
While that happened, the fire Dragonet Black disdained, overstepped his bounds throwing Black into a vicious fit. Slim had to leave with his once madly clawing now affectionate charge away and with Edge still missing in action, this left Crisp alone with no distractions.  
  
It was Classic’s time to shine.   
  
Languidly, Classic trotted over before Crisp and flipped himself onto his back, displaying his vulnerable tummy and softly glowing inlet. He couldn’t twist and turn gracefully in the air, prove his might like Black, or croon similar to Blue, but he could do this.  
Classic began to wiggle. Shimmying himself back and forth while pawing the air softly. This was their thing, Classic would dance his wiggle and Crisp would reach down but instead of petting him, Crisp would release him from his god awful itch.  
  
Sadly, that wasn’t what happened.  
  
When Crisp reached down instead of pleasurable touches, Classic was lifted off the sands and cradled like a newborn hatchling. He looked up confused toward Crisp’s sweetly smiling face.   
  
“I am honored, Classic...but you’re far too young and while you may feel this for me now, in the future you may regret your decision. Your life is still starting hatchling, and from here to the ceremony someone may come along you’ll feel that deep connecting bond with. So much so that you’ll fly off with them upon your back and not me” Crisp had said with a bittersweet smile.  
  
But Classic wasn’t gifted like Red, he couldn’t project his thoughts to Crisp without a Rider’s bond. Classic couldn’t explain to Crisp that for Classic there was Crisp and only Crisp...but he could show him.  
  
Later that same night cuddle alongside his brothers, Classic made a promise. That without a doubt Crisp would learn it would be Classic that met him at the Ceremony and no other. Classic was Crisp and Crisp was Classic; once they bonded, there would be no doubt.   
  


* * *

  
  
Ceremony came both too soon and not soon enough.   
  
Classic spent the months after the heat fiasco trying his hardest to properly court Crisp as a dragon and then, eventually, as a Monster/Human would. Wiggles, fresh kills, even utilizing his first full flight to dazzle Crisp with twirls and loops.   
When that didn’t work Classic tried the secondary approach of flowers, sweets (nabbed from the kitchens, fresh from the oven) but nothing worked!   
  
Crisp would give him that same forlorn smile, thanking him for the gift before trying to divert Classic’s attention toward another one of the current candidates or the younger ones that would stand next time Ceremony.    
  
It hurt every time but the dragon refused to be deterred.    
  
Unfortunately, It was as if nothing would ever go right for either himself or his brothers, or at least most of them. Classic was happy for Red, really he was, that didn’t mean he wasn’t jealous.    
Despite his young siblings attempts at hiding it or Edge’s impeccable poker face, Classic could feel the radiating energy of their bond.    
Blue trying to give his Stretch space, Black chasing off any Rider, Handler or Dragonet that lingered anywhere near Slim until it became a self imposed full-time job.   
  
But oh, how Classic yearned every second of every moment leading toward that anticipated day.    
  
He couldn’t sleep the night before nor find any rest the morning of. Classic’s entire body was vibrating from conflicting feelings.   
  
Anticipation.   
  
Black took Slim off the ledge.   
  
Eagerness.   
  
Red and Edge took their first “official” flight.   
  
Exhaustion.   
  
Crisp stepped onto the ledge...and Classic near crashed atop the rock right after. His not so graceful landing shoving his muzzle into Crisp midsection painfully he was sure but Crisp was more concerned over Classic then he was himself, as usual.    
  
Their eyes met and Classic pushed his mind outward. He was old enough, Crisp was open to the bond and there was no one else the Dragon would ever allow in his life if it wasn’t the skeleton before him.   
  
CALM/ACCEPTANCE/AFFECTION/PATIENCE/LOVE/PLEASE/ YOU ONLY YOU   
  
Classic poured himself into Crisp and took deep gulps of the dawning realization, the obvious hindsight, the acceptance and the solidifying bond and it was life changing.   
  
Crisp’s legs went out from under him but Classic held him up with his muzzle. Inhaling the scent of his Rider, desperate to curl up and take a nap right there.    
Thankfully for the waiting Candidates, Crisp caught onto his Dragon’s thoughts and wheedled the slothful dragon into the air with a promised but incredibly loaded “ _ later _ ”.   
  
It was possibly the fastest Classic had ever flown, shortcut be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it let me know with a kudos or comment!  
! Been expanding on this au a bit and really enjoyed writing it.


End file.
